


Ideal Situation

by elysiumwaits



Series: Tumblr Prompts/Fics [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, I mean, Language, Light Bondage, M/M, There's not a lot to tag for here?, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 11:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits
Summary: “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”





	Ideal Situation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt “First Kiss” on tumblr.

If Stiles were pressed to come up with a description, he would say that it happened much in the same way that most of the important things in his life do, with the threat of danger and death looming over his head, and as the direct result of an ill-advised, impulsive decision.

The plot twist  _ here _ , however, is that it’s not  _ Stiles’ _ impulsive decision.

He’s definitely at fault, or at the very least a contributing party. It is not an ideal situation; in fact, Stiles would go so far as to say it is the  _ exact opposite _ of an ideal situation. An ideal situation, in Stiles’ mind, is after a nice dinner and maybe a movie. Maybe following a pack meeting, when there’s no one else around while they clean up the soda cans and throw away the pizza box. Hell, Stiles would even have settled for an ‘oh my god, how did we survive this, I’m so glad you’re alive’ kind of situation in his Jeep or the Camaro.

Instead, Stiles is wedged into a crevice far too small for a grown man to be able to squeeze into, let alone a grown man and one buff werewolf. The whole forest is riddled with hunters that don’t seem to give a flying holy fuck about anything other than Derek’s furry problem. They certainly don’t seem to care that Stiles is  _ human _ , and have made it perfectly clear that they will happily dump him into a shallow grave at the first available opportunity, should the need arise.

They’re at a pretty severe disadvantage. Stiles is bruised all to hell, cradling his wrist to his chest as best he can because he’s like sixty percent sure it’s fractured, and his cell phone is dead in his pocket - which, honestly, it’s not like he’s got service out here in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere anyway. On top of that, Stiles doesn’t have the tools he needs to break Derek out of the heavy-duty cuffs keeping his wrists behind his back. Not even a  _ bobby pin _ , let alone his actual picks.

Long story short, they’re fucked. They’re  _ so  _ fucked, they’ve gone completely FUBAR, Stiles is absolutely going to die out here, hiding in some tiny hole in a rock wall and pressed stupidly close to Derek, and he  _ can’t even enjoy it _ because he’s too riddled with anxiety and stress. 

Though, if he’s being honest, being well and truly in Derek Hale’s personal space before he dies was on his bucket list. He just didn’t want it quite like this.

“You have to be quiet,” Derek hisses.

“I didn’t say anything!” Stiles whispers indignantly.

“Your breathing is loud.” Derek glances out of their little hiding spot again and shifts on his feet. Unfortunately, Stiles’ injured wrist is pressed between their chests, and even that minute movement draws a pained sound from him, far too loud for their current situation. Derek looks at him sharply.

Stiles stares back, trying to muster up a glare. “I’ll just  _ stop  _ breathing then, since I’m so loud,” he snaps in a whisper.

A twig snaps nearby, and Stiles actually  _ does _ stop breathing at the sound. He doesn’t dare move, not even to try and peek out past Derek to see his own death coming. Derek shifts again, though, and Stiles absolutely can’t help the way his mouth opens for the pained gasp to escape.

Suddenly, there are lips over his own, quick and pressing. Stiles goes absolutely still with shock, before he kisses back almost automatically, and then  _ definitely  _ of his own volition. Dying pressed close to Derek Hale is one thing, but dying while finally kissing him? Stiles will take it, he’ll settle for that.

He doesn’t even hear if someone comes closer, his heart pounding in his ears. Derek pulls away, and Stiles starts breathing again - admittedly much quieter than before. 

“I didn’t have my hands to put over your mouth,” the werewolf says. He sounds fucking  _ apologetic _ , and Stiles would smack him if he weren’t too busy trying not to injure his wrist further or give them away. “But they’ve moved away now, I think.”

“Did you just kiss me to  _ shut me up _ ?” Stiles hisses after his brain reboots. 

Derek gingerly starts to shift away, sidling out of the crevice. “That was one of the reasons, yeah.”

“One of the - what are your  _ reasons _ , Derek?” The words come through gritted teeth as Stiles tries to brace his wrist while emerging from the crack in the rock as well. Derek can’t reach out and steady him at the moment, after all.

Derek isn’t looking at him, instead staring at what seems to be a very interesting patch of forest floor. “I thought that if we did get caught, it would be… good to have kissed you at least once.”

In the distance, Stiles can hear howls, and relief rushes through him. 

“We’re going to talk about this,” Stiles says, promise and intent thick in his voice. “ _ After _ we’re safely back in Beacon Hills,  _ after _ I have a cast on this wrist, and  _ after _ you’ve kissed me at least ten more times.”

Derek had looked up at the howls of their pack coming to their rescue, and now his gaze slides to Stiles. “I can agree to that.”


End file.
